This Is Us
by ClaudiaRain
Summary: She's there for everyone, but who's there for her?


**Title:** This Is Us

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Necessary Roughness or its characters and I make no profit from this. It's just for fun.

**Spoilers:** None

**Pairing:** Nico/Dani

**Author's note:** I am behind on the show, so if something major has happened, and you're wondering why I didn't address it, it's because I haven't seen it yet.

I had so much fun writing this, I hope those who read it enjoy it even a tenth as much!

**XXXXXX**

Dani finished off another glass of wine, willing her racing thoughts to cease, but nothing helped. Today had been awful – another fight with Ray Jay, cold silence from Lindsay, her ex-husband calling with new demands from his lawyers, and none of that even compared to her job. T.K. had shown up at 3:30 in the afternoon, while she'd been in the middle of an appointment with another client, and his ensuing meltdown had caused both T.K. and her 3 pm appointment to storm out on her. As if the entire thing were _her _fault (well, to both of them, it was).

She was sick of it. All of it. Her family's problems. Her clients' problems. It was as if no one could solve the simplest issues anymore. It always had to go through her, as if she were the be all and end all to their lives. It might have been flattering if she weren't so _goddamn tired_.

Take, for example, her mother. She should have known better than to live under the same roof as her, because even though Dani paid the bills now (because Ray was a bastard who still hadn't given her a dime toward expenses, citing some legal excuses), her mother still acted as though she ran the household. Dani had just been forced to listen to a scathing lecture about how could she let Lindsay date an older boy, and act 'wild,' and otherwise disrespect her mother (as if Dani had a choice in the matter!). She'd tried to explain, but once her mother was done criticizing, she'd swept out of the house, saying she had a date. Dani suspected it was more than likely a cover for some underground gambling club she had recently joined.

No sooner had her mother left, than the coach had called her, demanding to know why T.K. left a half dozen increasingly frantic voicemails for him about how he would no longer have anything to do with Danielle Santino. She'd gotten stuck on the phone for nearly an hour, what with the time it took to calm him down, and then him deciding that while he had her, he might as well tell her every other issue with every other player that she had to fix, by, oh yesterday. Never mind that she had no idea how to help T.K. since he never did get around to telling her his issue before storming out. The coach had finally accepted her words, with a none too vague threat about how if she couldn't fix his star player (and everyone else, too), she'd soon be unemployed – at least where the Hawks organization was concerned.

She had been ready to throw in the towel and collapse into bed (at 6 pm, how sad), when Matt had called and asked her to come to the stadium to get some paperwork. He would have dropped it off, he said, but he was too busy to get away, and it couldn't wait. When she'd gotten there, Laura had been in his office, just to cap off her wonderful day. Dani had forced politeness as the other woman made snide comments about T.K.'s latest meltdown (apparently T.K. had also complained about her to Laura, how wonderful).

Matt didn't notice the undercurrents between them, and Dani had to literally bite her tongue to keep from saying something downright hostile to the woman. She would have, if not for the fact that in her current mood, she had the feeling if she opened her mouth, she'd say something terrible enough to cause irreparable damage to her own career, as well as her relationship with Matt. Not that she wanted to date him anymore – Laura was welcome to him – but he was still a good friend to her, for the most part, and she didn't want to lose that.

Friends were few and far between lately. With the upcoming divorce, most of them had fallen into Ray's camp. As such, she wanted to hold onto the few she had as tightly as she could.

That's how the day was nearly at an end and she was left alone in her kitchen, trying to console herself with alcohol and forget about her miserable day. The worst part was all the problems she still had, and the fact that even several glasses of wine and a good night's sleep wouldn't make _any _of them go away come morning.

Generally she hated self-pity, but today she thought she was entitled to it – and besides, it wasn't like anyone else cared at the moment. If she didn't feel sorry for herself, who would?

As she cringed at her inner thoughts, sounding pathetic even to herself, she realized the only person who hadn't come to her with a problem today was Nico. She'd seen him at the stadium when they passed in the hall, both too busy to stop and chat. But hey, it was only 11:30 at night, so he still had at least –

Abrupt knocking at her door made her groan and put her head in her hands. No one else visited her at such ungodly hours (well aside from T.K., and since he was "through with her" for the 158th time, she doubted it was him). Of course Nico had to come over to top off her day with the news that someone was in jail, or on a bender, or having some other crisis that only _she_ could solve. At midnight.

Which led her to wonder: when had Nico decided he had the privilege to see her whenever he liked, anyways?

Perhaps more importantly – why had she never corrected him of that wrong notion? She'd complained, for sure, but she'd never told him it was unacceptable. She could make the case that she did it for her clients, that she wanted to be there when they needed her, but sometimes when he came over it wasn't for any kind of crisis at all. Sometimes he came over for the most mundane reasons, and it never even _occurred _to her to ask him, 'can't this wait until tomorrow?' After all, it's not like the coach, or Matt, or Ray ever came over at 1 am to chat. If they had tried, she would have quickly set them straight that they weren't allowed to –

He knocked again and she realized she was standing in front of the door, lost in her thoughts. Shaking her head to clear it, she pulled the door open mid-knock, and it didn't even ruffle him in the slightest. He was leaning casually against the doorjamb as if he did this every night. Wait, he _did _do this almost every night.

"We have a situation," he said without preamble. Despite the fact that he had come over with yet one more thing for her to figure out, she couldn't claim she wasn't happy to see him. He appeared as he always did, no matter the time of day or night – immaculate black suit, crisp white shirt underneath. No kidding, once she'd had to bring T.K. to his place at 3 am, without any prior notice, and he'd opened the door looking exactly the same. She'd asked him about it, but all he'd said was that he had to make sure he looked good for her, and nothing else on the subject. Still she wondered, maybe he slept standing up, maybe he was a robot who shut down at night and – wow, she was really tired.

"Dani? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Are you a robot?" She asked, without thinking.

He merely tilted his head slightly, and his expression didn't change at all. She thought that could possibly be construed as a yes.

She shook herself and turned to retreat back into the kitchen, knowing he would follow despite her lack of invitation. She could tell herself it irked her that he didn't think he needed one, but the fact was that he didn't need one. For some reason, he never had.

He cleared his throat to get her attention. "As I was saying –"

"Correction," she said, as she rummaged through her fridge searching for a bottle of water; she'd suddenly lost her taste for the wine. "_You_ have a situation. I respectfully decline the offer of being part of said situation, whatever it may be."

When she turned back to him, she couldn't read his face. "You respectfully decline?" He sounded amused.

She shrugged and sipped her water. "I'm done for the day. In fact, I was done for the day several hours ago. Too bad that you missed the deadline. Whatever it is will have to wait. Maybe indefinitely."

Nico studied her intently, moving past the demeanor she wanted him to see – the blasé indifference of a woman who simply wanted to get to bed after a long day. There was something more going on here. He could see it in the slight lines around her eyes, the tenseness of her shoulders, the way she gripped her counter too tightly.

"Okay…" he began slowly. "Want to tell me what the problem is?"

She laughed, too loudly for his comfort, and stared past him to a distant place visible only in her own mind. "What _the _problem is? Oh, Nico, you're so far behind I can't even see you anymore."

"That's funny," he said, moving over to step directly into her line of vision, "because, to me, you're perfectly clear. And I don't like what I'm seeing."

She blinked and met his eyes. He sounded genuinely concerned, and it was comforting. By now, they knew each other. They both fixed things. They were both expected to take care of situations, often ones that had dire consequences if they weren't fixed, and they were expected to act quickly. He knew _exactly _what it was like, and for some reason she had never realized that until now.

She could tell that he had her in his sights as something that needed fixing, and normally that thought might have riled her, but right now all she wanted was to let him do it, let someone _else _take care of things for once. She had been taking care of herself for so long that she forgot how wonderful it felt to have someone else step in once in awhile. But with it came the memories of being vulnerable, of recognizing that in order to let someone else in, you had to, by definition, open yourself up to being hurt.

And the overall question that whispered through her mind…was letting someone in worth the risk?

"I'm tired," she admitted, the words surprising her.

His expression didn't change, except maybe to turn more…grave? Yes, she decided, that was the word to describe the growing darkness in his eyes, and the downward turn of his mouth. He was too serious, too – she swallowed and looked away.

"What happened today?" He asked, his voice carefully insistent. Not demanding, but not weak either, as if he would be put off by lame excuses. She knew that he would only be satisfied with the truth, and it was just her damn bad luck that he was probably the only person currently in her life who would know if she was speaking the truth or not.

She took a deep breath, staring at her kitchen floor, as if the tile were the most fascinating thing she'd ever seen. "What didn't happen today?" She muttered, risking a glance up at him to find that he was still watching her with concern. The next thought she had shot through her like a bolt of lightning – he _cared_. At times in the past she had wondered, but now she knew for sure.

"Like?" He prodded, stepping towards her so that she had to take a step back and sit on one of the bar stools in her kitchen.

She was feeling a bit fuzzy, and she didn't know if it was from the wine earlier, or the headiness of having someone solely focused on her, ready to listen to _her _problems, instead of the other way around.

She knew she could still stop it right there. She could say she wanted to talk at another time, a time they both knew would never come, and he'd have to accept it. Because although he was forceful, so was she, and he'd know that pushing her would get him nowhere. More than that, she guessed that he'd understand the real reason behind it – that she wasn't ready to open up to anyone yet. That she wasn't ready to trust someone after what Ray had done to her not that long ago.

As tempting as it was to retreat, to protect herself in the way she excelled at, she simply couldn't do it. Because she _was _tired, and overwhelmed, and for the life of her, the last thing in the world she wanted to do was go back upstairs and lie in bed and drown in all the problems that had developed over the course of a single day. She didn't want to figure everything out on her own (like she _always_ did), because she didn't have it in her tonight.

In the end, she wondered, what did she have to lose by talking to him? Aside from, well…him. What if he thought she was whining about her life, or if he decided she was too much work and he'd be better off not bothering… The mere thought caused her breathing to quicken in a sort of panic, and her face must have given her away because Nico pulled another bar stool close to her and sat down, grasping her hand and leaning closer to her more than was strictly necessary. "I'm not going anywhere," he whispered. "Talk to me."

She shut her eyes and nodded, unconsciously gripping his hand in return. "I had a terrible day, Nico." The words alone, merely saying them, made her want to start crying, and she furiously blinked. She would _not_ fall apart now.

He nodded, as if he already knew that (he probably did) and asked, without hesitation, "What happened?"

She shrugged, still miserable. "Everything happened. My kids and my mother hate me, Ray hates me, T.K. hates me, my other clients hate me, the coach hates me, Laura definitely hates me," she stopped to laugh, bitterly. "I sound pathetic, don't I? But it's true. I don't know what the hell happened today except that I heard from just about everyone in my life about how I have screwed up _their _lives. And Matt…well I have no idea what he thinks, since he never talks to me anymore."

"That's it?" Nico asked doubtfully, knowing there was more she wasn't telling him.

If she had been more herself – if she hadn't been as tired and miserable as she was, she would have recognized the real question he was asking. Unfortunately, she interpreted it as him trying to brush off her problems, and overreacted accordingly.

"That's it?" She gasped, jumping off the bar stool in her haste to put as much space between them as possible. "What do you mean, 'that's it'?"

Nico had no idea what had set her off. "I mean, that can't be all that's troubling you," he shrugged, his expression as unreadable as ever, his eyes only moving to watch her pace back and forth in front of him. "Everyone has disagreements."

"Disagreements," she laughed, having to bite down on the urge to keep it from becoming hysterical. "That _is _what you would call it. I should have known."

He began to suspect he was missing the point – or rather, the point she thought he should get. "Dani," he tried, reaching out to grab her arm as she passed by him, but she skirted to the side in the middle of her pacing to avoid him.

"No, Nico," she shook her head furiously, trying to focus on something – anything – else. She had thought, out of everyone, that he might understand. Because he was...different. Because he was Nico.

Because he fixed things, and a childishly hopeful part of her had wanted him to fix her, too.

Realizing she'd been completely wrong was a devastating blow. She steeled herself, grasping the counter behind her for support. "You should go."

Nothing with him was ever that easy. "You're crazy if you think I'm leaving now."

Immovable. That's what he was, from the set of his shoulders to the expression on his face. No way in hell was she getting rid of him until he was ready to leave, and she knew it. "Oh right, I forgot," she said scathingly, "it's only my house. Why would my wanting you to get out matter to you? You can do whatever you please."

He was maddeningly, infuriatingly, impassive. "I believe I asked you what was wrong. And you have yet to answer me."

"I told you," she snapped, and when she heard her own voice, it startled her, because she was scarily close to screaming. "Everything! If you name it, it has gone wrong for me today. And the worst of it is that everyone expects me to fix everything single-handedly. As if I'm a miracle worker who can wave a wand and repair every problem in everyone's life. I'll let you in on a secret, Nico, alright? I can't do it." She sighed, anger evaporating, "I don't know how."

"Dani," he began, and she glanced up at him, agitated that he was smiling. "You do know how. You're Danielle Santino. You can fix anything."

"No, I can't," she argued. "I can't fix every problem for every person I know!"

"Actually, I believe you can," he said thoughtfully. "But you shouldn't have to."

She frowned, unsure of what he was getting at.

"Dani…" his gaze was sympathetic, and against her will, she allowed herself to relax a bit. "It sounds to me like some people are starting to rely on you too much because they're too lazy or just unwilling to do things for themselves. You need to sort out those people from the ones who genuinely need your expertise. For as long as I've known you, you've helped people, and you're the best at it I've ever seen. Don't let one bad day convince you that you're suddenly a terrible therapist, or that you don't have any answers."

"But that's exactly it," she argued. "I don't have _all _the answers, no matter what others might think."

"You don't need to have all of them," he swore, closing the distance between them and wrapping his arms around her, ignoring the way she froze, unsure what to do. "You only need a couple to start with. We'll figure out the rest along the way."

After a moment she relaxed, reveling in the way it felt to be held in someone else's embrace. Ray had never been that affectionate, and she couldn't remember the last time she'd simply been held by anyone. It felt…too nice. She could get used to this, and then where would she be?

And then, her brain registered his odd phrasing. "_We'll _figure it out?"

"Exactly," he said, and when she glanced up to meet his eyes in question, he slowly leaned down and kissed her on the forehead.

"I don't understand," she said, slowly.

Nico half-smiled at her and wrapped his arms more tightly around her waist. She put her arms around him in automatic reflex. "What's there to understand? You're not alone."

"Right," she frowned. "Except that I _am _alone, Nico."

"Really?" He asked, letting his arms move up from her waist and trail along her arms. She let go of him and he squeezed her hands gently before releasing her altogether and stepping back. "Is this alone?"

She knew it might be too much to ask for – to hope for – but she had to. "Are you saying that you…that you…" she couldn't get the rest of the words out, because of worry, or hope, or fear. Probably all three.

"I'm saying that I'm here."

"But…"

"Look at me," he ordered, as she reluctantly met his eyes. "I'm not going anywhere." (He was saying that a lot, lately).

"Until we fix what's wrong?"

He smiled, and it was more than that enigmatic half-smile he often had. This was a genuine smile, and she found herself smiling in return. "Until…you tell me to leave."

She found herself imitating one of his gestures when she tilted her own head to the side. "What?"

"You heard me," he said.

"Yeah, I did," she confirmed. "That's why I had to double check."

He reached over and ran his hand through her hair, tucking some errant strands behind her ear. The intimate gesture was his answer.

He was a man of few words, but she still knew what he was saying.

They went to the living room to settle on one of the couches. "Tell me what's wrong," he said, once more.

And she did, going down the list of problems, every issue that had developed with everyone in her life on that particular day. He listened with concern and sympathy, but more than that, he helped her work through the issues with each person. By the end of her list, she felt fairly confident that she would be fine talking to each one, and that she had the solutions they needed.

It wasn't that Nico gave her the answers; it was that he calmed her down, gave her suggestions, and helped her organize her thoughts enough to get there on her own.

More than that, he helped her come up with a plan on how to explain to everyone in her life (mainly her kids, her ex, and her mother) that she wasn't their personal problem-solver. She would always be there for the major issues, but most of the time they had to figure things out on their own – just like everyone else.

When they finally finished, Dani glanced at the clock and inwardly sighed upon seeing it was nearly 3 am. "I have a meeting with the coach in 5 hours," she told Nico, throwing her arm over her eyes, already envisioning how terrible she would feel.

Nico pulled out his phone and was quiet for a few minutes, before he looked up. "Not anymore. In fact, your schedule is clear for the entire day." When she merely stared at him with a mixture of awe and gratitude, he waved his phone at her before pocketing it. "You're welcome."

"God, I love you," she breathed.

His eyes widened and she felt the color heightening in her cheeks. She'd meant it as a casual expression, a way to thank him; not as a declaration. Certainly _not _as a declaration.

"Dani –" He started, as she quickly stood and backed away from him, towards the doorway, seeking any available escape.

"I'm going to – that is – I need to – I mean –" She tried, but couldn't finish any of her sentences because she had no explanation available.

"Dani," he whispered, softly, and once again she knew what he was trying to say, and he didn't even have to _say _it. (And what the hell did that mean, except that she really _was _in love with him?)

"Nico, all I meant was to say thank you, I didn't mean…"

His eyes darkened again, and she could tell he wasn't happy. "You don't love me?"

She was thoroughly confused. "Do you _want_ me to love you?"

"I want you to feel comfortable being honest with me."

She bit her lower lip in worry. "That goes both ways, you know."

He relaxed – that was it, then. She didn't want to jump in first and get hurt. Normally he wasn't one to talk at length about _anything_, never mind his feelings. He preferred to use actions to demonstrate things like that, but she needed reassurance. For her (maybe only for her), he could stray outside of his comfort zone and give it. "I have cared about you for a very long time, maybe since the day I met you."

She scowled. "You _care _about me."

"And…" he tried to remain serious but couldn't help smiling at how irritated she was. "I recently recognized that what I feel now is more than that." He shrugged helplessly. "I don't know when it turned into love, but I know that it did."

"Oh," she breathed out the word with relief. "That's good to know, because I was envisioning this nightmare scenario where I told you I loved you and you replied with 'that's nice to hear, thank you' or you –"

"Dani," he cut her off. "You're rambling." He was smiling again, that expression on his face that told her he knew more than she did, and for the first time she didn't resent it.

But still, she was at a loss, and he wasn't helping her out. Maybe he didn't want to. "I get this way when I'm nerv–"

She was interrupted by his mouth on hers, and the start of a kiss that was slow burning, that built from tentative, to passionate, to nearly desperate (on her part, she thought, because she couldn't imagine him ever being desperate for anything). He bit her lower lip where she'd been worrying it earlier, and she gasped in slight pain, which was quickly forgotten when he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, pulling her closer. She didn't know how long it lasted, only that it ended too soon, and when they separated, he was the most disheveled she'd ever seen him. The fact that she could do that to him gave her a sense of power that thrilled her. She never thought she'd have something over him.

She was definitely going to use that to her advantage.

He met her eyes and started shaking his head. It was as if he could read her thoughts. "Don't even –"

"Oh yeah," she smirked, crossing her arms. "I'm using that to get my way if I have to."

"You're forgetting something," he said, absently pulling at his shirt sleeves.

"Am I?" It was a challenge, and God, she hadn't had this much fun playing in a _long _time.

"You are," his voice sounded like carefully affected indifference, and she might have bought it if she didn't know him as well as she did. "Sure, you can do that to me, but I can do that to you, too."

"Uh huh," she feigned boredom.

"In fact, I don't even have to kiss you."

That got her interest. "Really?" She asked slyly, and he started laughing at the suggestion written across her face.

"I'm fairly certain we're not thinking of the same things."

"Shame," she sighed dramatically.

Her amusement quickly faded when he took two steps forward so they were close, but not touching. He simply met her eyes, and all she could think was that his smoldered. She hated to use that description, but it was the only accurate word. Her breathing quickened, and when he leaned toward her, her pulse veritably skyrocketed. She leaned up, ready to meet him, expecting him to kiss her, but true to his word, he didn't.

She frowned, about to voice her displeasure, when she felt him push her hair back from her left shoulder. When his lips ghosted over her neck, she had to actually clench her hands so that she didn't grab him and pull him closer. She closed her eyes, savoring the feeling of someone else being the complete focus of her consciousness, and how it felt to be the complete focus of his.

She felt like she was running a marathon, and he hadn't even _done _anything.

His breath moved up her neck slowly, until he got to her ear, and then he gently bit it and she actually _jumped_. "Dani?" He murmured, pausing for a few moments before adding, "Admit defeat."

He pulled back triumphantly and she blinked herself out of a haze of lust. He was right, damn him, he had won. It was embarrassing, because she was a grown woman, not a teenager who couldn't control herself.

"Fine, you win," she relented unhappily.

He shook his head. "We both win," he told her softly, reaching up to frame her face and smooth away the frown. "Who knew you were this competitive?"

She wanted to be mad at him for making her basically unravel in the middle of her living room, but she couldn't, because he was right – she hadn't really minded it. In fact, she'd gladly do it again, and again, and…

She shut her eyes and leaned against him. She was no expert, but this was more than what she ever felt, in the best of times, with Ray.

And what she'd always thought she'd had with Ray was love.

She was slightly terrified, because what did that make this?

If it wasn't love, it was the closest she'd ever felt in her life.

It scared the hell out of her.

He'd told her he loved her, and she'd told him the same, but…what did that really _mean_? For both of them? And where did they go from here?

"What is this?" She asked quietly, hoping she'd done an admirable job of hiding her fear.

"Danielle Santino," he said slowly, as if savoring the feel of her name in his mouth, and she shivered. "This is…us."

"Us," she repeated, considering the word. Us. It wasn't that scary, was it? It meant the both of them. Her and him. The two of them. Together.

She could handle that.

He tipped her head back in order to lean down and kiss her once more. She acquiesced immediately, and sighed into it, feeling…not alone. She didn't have to do this alone.

As if to punctuate her unspoken thoughts, Nico asked her if she wanted him to be there when she confronted T.K. about the incredible tantrum he had earlier.

She thought about it. It wasn't that she didn't think she could do it alone – she could – but it would be easier with him there. At the very least, Nico would provide more incentive for T.K. to control his anger, which would make him more open to listening to her. So if Nico were offering… "If you want," she said carefully.

He smiled again. (It must be some kind of record – she'd seen him smile more tonight than in the past six months of knowing him.) "I always want," he said, and they both knew he was talking about much more than being there to help her deal with T.K.

She could do this, whatever _this_ turned out to be, and more than that…

"I always want, too," she informed him, grinning.

But why did it feel like she was forgetting something?

"Wait a minute, when you came over you said we had a situation." She couldn't believe she'd forgotten – now she felt awful. She'd been going on about herself, and he'd spent all this time trying to help her, and she hadn't even asked why he'd come over in the first place. "I'm sorry, I didn't –"

"We did have a situation, but we don't anymore," he said.

She stared at him in confusion. "How do you know that…" she trailed off as realization dawned. "_I_ was the situation?"

His nod confirmed her guess and she felt tears prick at the corner of her eyes. Of course, she'd seen him earlier when she'd had to go to the stadium to get the paperwork from Matt. She hadn't thought anything of it when he appeared, as usual, from nowhere (she half thought he had a secret network of tunnels and shortcuts through the whole building that only he knew about). But they hadn't even spoken, just nodded at each other in passing, because she'd been in a rush, and he'd been doing – whatever it was he did.

He'd been watching her, though. And out of everyone she'd seen today, he was the only one who had seen _her_ in return. "It wasn't just a coincidence that you showed up tonight when I –" _needed you._

He actually frowned at that. "When is anything ever a coincidence with me?" But he was teasing her, and he added, "I should think you'd know me better than that by –"

She took the opportunity to surprise him, for a change (because such opportunities were rare, and had to be seized when they appeared), leaning up mid-sentence to cut him off with a kiss.

"Yup, I'm definitely going to do that from now on to get my way," she smirked afterwards.

"You can try," he warned, "but remember, it goes both ways."

"That's what I'm looking forward to," she said smartly, then gasped when he pulled her up against him, proceeding to show her why he preferred actions to words.

(Later, she'd admit that it was a way of thinking she could get behind.)


End file.
